


A Wounded Bird

by hunterscoffee



Category: To Kill a Mockingbird (1962), To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23662213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunterscoffee/pseuds/hunterscoffee
Summary: Found by the side of the road with a Glass shard in your foot, you soon realise that the Maycomb you had once loved has changed.
Relationships: Atticus Finch/Reader
Kudos: 44





	A Wounded Bird

You woke. Dirt caked under your fingernails, hair sticking together, clothes tattered and covered in mud. Dried blood trailed down your forehead.  _ It was dry so you were lying here for a while. _ When looking around at your surroundings you realised that you recognised none of it and upon thought, you came to the conclusion you did not remember anything. You push yourself up from the dirt you lay on and stand. Smoothening down the wrinkles in your skirt. A small car pottered down the road, it was old and loud as it approached you. A man stuck his head out the window, he was older and wearing a sheriff’s uniform.

“Ma’am, are you doin’ right?” He asked in a strong southern accent.

“No, sir.” You move a hand to your head, tracing the blood to see where it came from. “I don’t think I am.” The car stopped and he hopped out of the car quickly striding up to you.

“Ma’am, can ya walk?” He asks and you nod, taking a step only to find a sharp pain in your foot. You grimace and fall to the dirt.

“Ma’am!” He exclaims and is at your side in an instant.

“My foot.” You grind out and he looks to your sole before wincing, grimacing slightly.

“Ma’am I don’t think you right an’ well, best we see a doctor.” He begins to lift you and you begin to panic at his gesture, quickly pushing him away. “Oh, uh, ‘m sorry, ma’am, I don’t think it best for you to walk. Can- Can I carry you to the car, please?”

Your mind must’ve been hazy because you felt none of the pain the Sheriff reacted to. Though it seemed to be bad since he could not bring himself to look at you. The drive was short and the sign outside of the town he brought you to read  _ Maycomb County _ . He drove hurriedly, then parked outside what looked to be a medical practitioner’s clinic. The sheriff jumped out of the car again and dashed inside, bringing a man in a white coat out with him, they looked to be talking hurriedly. The doctor was the one to open the door and lift you out of the car, this time you were far too tired to fight back against him. Whatever happened next you weren’t conscious for, if you could guess it was the injury to your head, but when you woke three men were talking in the corner of a room. The bed you lay one was soft and you were covered in far too many blankets, but when you made to move them you found you were too full of fatigue to do so. 

One of the men noticed your consciousness and ran to the bedside with much anxiety.

“Y/N?” He said your name like it meant everything to him. You groaned as you moved yourself up.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, eyebrows fused together in confusion. He looked hurt at your failure to remember him, the other men in this room and even yourself.

“You don’t remember?” He asks and you move a hand to your head to feel for the cut that had previously been there.

“A- Atticus?” You ask, stumbling over your memory a bit. He smiles a bit and reaches for your hand. You didn’t fight the gesture, holding your hand in his.

“I love you.” Tears were in his eyes and you cocked your head, the two other men took that as their cue to leave. “You don’t know do you?” You reach a hand up to cup his cheek and wipe the tears from his cheeks with your thumbs.

“No, no I don’t.” You agreed.

“You were stolen from the streets a month ago.” More tears slip from his eyes.

“I remember you only slightly.” You move a hand into his hair moving a few loose strands. “I remember I love you.” He again looks close to tears.

“I’m glad you're home.”

When his children had been let into the room, Scout nearly flung herself at you, it was Atticus himself who stopped her from crushing you in a hug. It was a bit later when you had slowly begun to remember who you were and who everyone else was. Miss Maudie had baked you a cake, Miss Stephine had dropped in to see you, along with a few other neighbours. Even Alexandra seemed happy you had returned, she had never been happy about anything to do with you, she detested your very presence, but she had told you that while you were gone Atticus had been distraught. You were too sickly to dress properly, no one seemed to care for your state. Atticus disapproved that you even left the bed, he had thought it unwise to walk on your foot. According to the doctor you had glass lodged in your foot and had been asleep for about a day or two before you had woken back up, you were dehydrated and malnourished. They were worried you might not wake, perhaps that was why Atticus had cried. It had also come to your attention that you and he were married, something of which you had not seemed to remember. Marriage had always seemed rather final to you and the prospect of having to serve a man was never something you looked forward to, but it was different with Atticus. He was nothing but kind to you. 

You had talked with Calpurnia, she had expressed how happy she was upon your return to the estate. You too had expressed your joy to be back and how you enjoyed her company and how she had done a magnificent job without you at home. “Perhaps I should acquire a profession?” You had joked, of course, it would be a while before you could do such a thing as get a job. 

It was later that night when you were reading to Scout when she had started crying about your disappearance and how you had caused Atticus to cry many times, though he would never admit it to them, they heard him in the night. You had apologised for your absence.

“Scout, do you know why I married your daddy?” You ask after the child in your arms stopped her crying.

“Nome.” She snuffled.

“He is the kindest, smartest man I have ever met and I have met a lot of nice men.” You smoothen her hair into a nice parting. “And I love him very much.” You sigh deeply. “Scout, listen to me, you don’t have to love or even like me, but know I love your daddy and you and your brother and I would never hurt any of you.” She looked up at you.

“I don’t ‘ate ya Mrs Y/N, I just don’t wanna see Atticus upset.” She said in her accent.

“Me neither, baby.” You smile down at her.

“Mrs Y/N?” She asks as you stand and tuck her into the bed.

“Yes?” You ask as you straighten.

“Ya talk nice, not like the people ‘ere.” She comments and you smile again.

“I guess I do talk differently, I'm not from where you’re from.”

“Where are ya from?” She asks as your finger lingers on the light switch.

“I don’t know.” You flick the light off. “Good night, Scout.”

“Night, Mrs Y/N.” She says as you softly close the door behind you, leaving it ever so slightly open.

You walked softly back to the room you shared with Atticus, he sat up in bed, a book in his hands.

“You're good with them,” Atticus whispered as he set down the book on the nightstand.

You lifted the covers back and slipped into the bed, moving closer to him and resting your head on his chest. He held you close to him as if he let go you would disappear.

“They deserve it.” You whisper back. “They’re too smart for their own good and this world is too cruel.” He moves a hand into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles and you laugh quietly.

“Atticus Finch, it’s what I did to deserve you.” You correct, kissing him slowly back.


End file.
